Title: Someone Else
Author: luckdragon
Rating: oh… PG, most likely
Summary: All Hermione wants to do is study. (A little fluff. A little snog. A little mystery.)
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If you do, it's not worth suing anyone over – trust me, the lawyer's fees will be far more than you'll get in return.
Author's Note: Hello again! Thanks for the reviews -- they made me smile. : ) Well, here we go again. It jumps back and forth, so hopefully you'll be able to follow along. Suffice it to say that by the end of the story, you should be able to cut and paste the sections and get the story all in order if you wanted to. Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!
She wonders if she has a strange look on her face.
Lavender and Parvati are both staring curiously, so it seems as if she does.
"What's all that blushing about?" Parvati finally poses the question.
"Oh, I'm not blushing," she says, knowing full well that this feeble lie will do nothing for her – it's trying to stop a tidal wave with a napkin.
Lavender and Parvati are far more slowly insistent than a tidal wave, however. Their approach is not to overwhelm in one fell swoop, but to chip away in polite, miniscule portions.
"It seems to me that you are," Lavender takes over. "Have you been embarrassed by something?" Both girls are still lazy in their questioning, but Hermione knows that this in no way means that they will relent.
"Er, in a way I suppose," Hermione offers.
"By what then?"
"Oh, nothing. It's nothing." It's nothing like I've ever experienced before, at any rate, her brain continues mutinously.
Parvati steps it up a notch – just a notch, sitting up just a bit straighter over her parchment. The girls, undoubtedly awake late into the night gossiping or practicing their makeup or sneaking out on dates or whatever it is that they do, are doing their best to piece together their schoolwork by the early morning light. Hermione, mind miles – or hallways – away, has stumbled upon their endeavor. "But you seem so flustered. Why don't you just tell us what's wrong? You might just feel better," Parvati encourages.
She wonders if she can feel any better. Or any worse. She decides that she cannot, but that secrecy is still imperative.
"I'm fine, thank you, Parvati."
She turns her head slightly and notices that Lavender's impatience is beginning to radiate off of her less subtly. Lavender doesn't like that their questions are getting them nowhere, and cuts closer to the chase. "Is it a boy?" she asks bluntly. "I've never seen anyone in your state who wasn't worked up over a member of the opposite sex."
Hermione feels the color on her cheeks deepen, and the girls abandon their books with lightning speed. Before she knows it, she is pulled into a position even more uncomfortable than her recent crouching snog – sitting in a cozy circle with her girlfriends. Both are grinning like Cheshire cats… like cats that ate the canary… like some sort of feline, at any rate.
"So what happened?"
"Yeah, tell us. You don't get bothered over boys so it must be something important. Give us every detail."
She knows that she must leave one important detail out. "I, er. Well." She can't find words to begin, doesn't even know whether she wants to or not (and this is just one thing of the many about which she is unsure). Lavender and Parvati's grins widen. Surely, this is a sign of the apocalypse. Her own personal apocalypse at least.
"Spit it out or we'll assume the worst!" Parvati urges.
"It's not that!" she exclaims. "Goodness! It was just a little… kissing."
This announcement is followed by a chorus of painful squeals.
"You've gone and got yourself kissed! Well done, Hermione!" Parvati exclaims when she is again capable of words.
"Who was the lucky victim?" Lavender implores, leaning forward.
"I can't… it's a secret," Hermione stutters unsteadily.
"A secret?" Lavender gasps, scathingly. "You can't keep that a secret!"
"Why can't I?"
"How are you supposed to squeal over your first proper kiss with us if you won't tell us who it was with?"
"I think you've done more than enough squealing without me being involved."
This comment does nothing to faze the inquisitors. "Come on, Hermione," Parvati whines. "You're taking all the fun out of it."
She snorts. "Believe me, I'm not." This, before she can help herself. She realizes that she has thrown herself back to the wolves. Perhaps she subconsciously wants to talk about it, to make sure that it really happened by saying the words aloud. Perhaps she is just continuing her apparent transformation into a complete and utter glutton for punishment.
"Oh, none of that!" Lavender says with sparkling eyes. "Now you have to tell us!"
"Anything but who it was," she agrees wearily.
Her two antagonists squeal again. She wonders if they realize how much they sound like pigs. The analogy fits, she thinks ruefully: they are scavenging and rifling and turning up what truffles they can.
"All right," Parvati says. "Was it a proper snog?"
"Parvati!"
"So it was!" the girl laughs. "Did you enjoy it? Was it well-done?"
Hermione's cheeks, nearly back to normal, flush with color again.
Lavender laughs. "So it was that too. You know, Hermione, you're giving us all the answers, but I'm afraid that you're going to have to open that yap of yours and give us some details."
"I… I don't know what you'd want to know."
"Anything," Lavender insists. "Everything!"
"Give me an example," Hermione says miserably.
"Well, where were you?"
"In a classroom."
"How appropriate," Parvati snorts, causing Hermione to glower. "So, it was quite enjoyable then?" the interrogator continues, unimpeded by Hermione's sour glare.
"It was…" Hermione says haltingly, "…by all accounts…" Parvati and Lavender lean in just a bit "outstanding. Wonderful. Marvelous." She begins to question whether her cheeks will ever regain their natural hue.
"But, how did this all come about?" Lavender presses.
Hermione looks at her wearily. "I don't know."
"Why are you studying in here, Hermione?" Ron asked, ducking his head into the classroom.
"For privacy," Hermione answered tiredly, wondering if her veiled implication will get across.
"What d'you want that for?" Ron continued, taking a few steps farther into the room.
Hermione sighed. Apparently not. "I have an Arithmancy exam in two days time. I need to study."
"All you do is study! Come back to the common room with me – we'd be thrilled to see you somewhere outside of a classroom."
"I'm sorry, Ron, but this is difficult work. I'm afraid I can't spend twenty minutes coming up with new and ghastly ways of seeing my own death and call it a night!" she snapped.
Ron pursed his lips. "There's no need to be huffy about it," he said a bit too critically as he perched backwards on the chair in front of hers. "It's not my fault you took a difficult class."
Hermione scowled, her train of thought completely derailed. "I am not huffy… I'm serious about my studies. And I happen to like the challenge of a difficult class," she retorted. "Could you please just leave me in peace for one evening?"
"What are you saying, Hermione? That I must not be able to handle a more challenging class? That I'm nothing but a lazy git?"
"Not at all," Hermione stated frostily. "Don't take it like that. I take challenging classes, and they require a lot of work, and if I'm interrupted I have to go back and –"
"Ah, so then I'm an annoying lazy git? Perhaps I know how to have a bit of fun once in a while," Ron retorted, taking offense.
"I'm not here to fight, Ron. I'm talking about myself, not about you. Please just leave me be, and I'll see you a little later." Hermione realized that he was becoming angrier than he should over this, and made a feeble attempt to pacify him.
"Fine," he rejoined, standing and hovering over her desk. "But one day, Harry and I might just be offended that you'd rather be with books than real three-dimensional people, and where will that leave you?"
Hermione's jaw dropped and she tensed her legs, ready to stand and defend her studious honor.
After the inquisition, Hermione avoids the Great Hall, encasing herself behind a fortress of books at a table in the library in hopes of finding a bit more respite. She reopens her Arithmancy books with a sigh that starts dutiful and ends in relaxation. This state does not last long, however, as the chair across from hers is drawn out and occupied suddenly.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione hisses, trying in vain to cap the annoyance rushing to the surface that hardens her eyes and tints her skin.
"Bothering you," Draco whispers back acidly. He looks at the book he has stolen from her stock and flipped open rather than at her. His feigned studying only irritates her further.
"Consider it a success. Now please leave."
"You won't believe what I've just heard," he continues in muted tones, obviously ignoring her request and glancing up – eyes only – to punctuate his sentence.
"That you're not Merlin's gift to Hogwarts?"
"Clever. But, no, I think that what I heard is the truth."
Hermione sighs. "If I let you enlighten me, will you promise to leave me in peace?"
Draco frowns slightly, tilting his head a bit in mock consideration. He snaps the stolen book shut briskly and runs his fingers lightly over the cover, drumming them decisively in the end. "Consider it done," he whispers, leaning forward slightly. "I wouldn't want to waste too much of my day on you anyway."
Outwardly, Hermione ignores this slight in the hopes of accelerating his departure. "What is it then?"
"I've heard that someone around here has had a bit of a late-night snog." Now, he's looking at her in full to completely appreciate every nuance of her reaction. He is not disappointed: her skin (insubordinate as is usual of the past few days) becomes tinged, her lips tighten, and her gaze becomes a bit more intense.
"Thank you for sharing," she hisses. Lavender and Parvati, she growls internally. "And now that I've upheld my half of our bargain, I'll see you in Potions."
"Not embarrassed, Granger?" he questions quietly, tartly, still not leaving. "I would have expected you to be a bit more… oh, shamed."
"So sorry to disappoint," she snaps as quietly as she can.
Their eyes lock across the table in a fiery glare.